


no montagues or capulets

by orphan_account



Series: the arctic monkeys inspired series [3]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Clubbing, M/M, just max thinking fantasizing about charles, partial voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 19:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21343162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: and no, there ain't no love, no montagues or capulets,just banging tunes and dj sets,dirty dance floors, and dreams of naughtiness!
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen
Series: the arctic monkeys inspired series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537813
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	no montagues or capulets

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song 'I bet you look good on the dancefloor' by the arctic monkeys

**They were out** celebrating.

Max was leaning against the bar, a drink in his hands as his eyes swayed over the room in search of something, anything to focus on, a point somewhere in the room so that he doesn’t look like a lost puppy any longer, waiting to just get out of the place.

And usually, Max liked to party, liked to drink and dance and enjoy himself, but this evening he truly wasn’t feeling up for it, yet somehow, against his will, he got pulled into the sweaty, stuffed club near the coast, all blinking lights and reflectors and smoke machines, and it was suffocating Max, the amount of everything so near him all at once.

His brain was jumbled, mind a mess, trying to form a single coherent thought to fight against the loud bass that drummed against his skull, tried to fight against the disgust he felt for the place, making him wonder how in the world did he ever enjoy going out clubbing; all it took was a single, bad time to make him vow never to go out again, even though he knew he’d be at the same place, same situation a week later, probably.

Then his eyes met with a figure at the other end of the dancefloor, all body twists and grinds and _he looked so good_, and Max felt his chest tighten, making him move his gaze away before it got out of control; he couldn’t help but glance at Charles every few seconds, consumed by the way his hips rocked against someone else’s, moves so _dirty_ they almost belonged on a four-poster bed at some high-end bordello down the street.

Max was absolutely astonished by the sight, eyes adhered at the pretty Monègasque who looked so obscene in the flashing red and purple lights, eyes closed as he enjoyed himself, obviously sober yet stuck in his own dirty, little world which Max wanted to be a part of.

He averted his gaze, becoming aware that he was conspicuous with his staring, and gulped down the rest of his drink, placing the empty glass back on the cold, marble surface; he almost wanted to rest his head on it, just to cool himself down and hope his friends will be leaving soon because he _really needed to get out._

Max got up from the stool he had been sitting on and moved to the toilets, where he stared at himself in the mirror, trying to calm down; he looked absolutely dreadful, hair sticking to his forehead from the fumes and sweat caused by the heat of the masses, shirt clinging to his skin and knuckles white from how tight he’d been gripping the sink.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see Charles, _grinding as if his life depended on it_ and Max wanted to feel that himself, on his body at least once, because Charles looked so good, so naughty and so pretty that Max would most likely be jerking off to the picture for the next few months, imagining the Monègasque in situations he probably shouldn’t.

The door to the toilets opened and in walked the subject of his running fantasies, all sweaty and panting, and something stirred right back up in Max, something devilish and he looked away, glaring at his own figure in the reflection underneath the white lights; from the corner of his eye he noticed Charles splashing water in his own face at the neighbouring sink and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to stare at the sight.

Then Charles left without a word and Max was left alone with his thoughts, so painfully aroused by the pictures in his brain of the Monègasque dancing so filthily with a figure underneath the flashing red lights and covered in steam, longing for an opportunity for it to be him.

**Author's Note:**

> [find me on tumblr](https://bakuturnnine.tumblr.com/)


End file.
